


The Art of Articulation

by Incadence



Series: Dreams [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Prostitution, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6074326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incadence/pseuds/Incadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one loves because they have to, but everyone loves because they choose to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part one.

Soulmates were an intricacy.

 It is strange to believe, that frail lips that eat and lie and sometimes love, can unearth just the barest peek of the universe's secrets, written against a lover's skin. With each kiss, each touch of lips against skin, reveals all the things we try so hard to hide.

You have stories written under your skin. And we’re all just waiting for someone to kiss the dust away, to show the glittering ground underneath. To open those fragile, beating hearts of ours.

But after all, we are vulnerable. And although people love to love, vulnerability is something utterly terrifying.

Soulmates and stories fascinated Jeongguk. But no more than anyone else. In a world like this, it was a truth all accepted, an ethereal, phenomenon many don’t even try to explain, like the stars and the spin of the earth, and the placing of the sky.

Sure, Jeongguk wanted a soulmate, had read the picture books and traced his skin with awe. He wonders what secrets he was hiding. Wonders what their lips will reveal.

Jeongguk was never lucky enough to have parents that were soulmates. It doesn’t seem to matter though. He sees the way they smile at each other, not perfect, but loving. In fact, Jeongguk doesn’t see any soulmates in his childhood. Or maybe it’s because he can’t see them at all. Those words revealed are blind to anyone else, they were for your soul mate’s eyes only, and a young, Jeongguk believed that fragility and vulnerability is beautiful in a breathless way.

In fact, the first time Jeongguk really sees this phenomenon firsthand is in college. In hindsight, it was quite stupid, but fate does have it’s fickle way of doing things. Maybe Jeongguk should have seen it coming. After all, Namjoon and Seokjin had been friends for years and years, an inseparable friendship that stood strong through childhood, primary school, and the start of college. Years of stories and laughter.

But no kisses.

Until that night; a mere dare, soft and simple.

Seokjin had laughed, and brought Namjoon’s hand to his lips.

“No homo,” Namjoon had stuttered out, smile edging on thin.

Seokjin’s laughs, eyes fluttering  when his lips touch the curve of Namjoon’s knuckles. A few seconds pass; lips on skin, skin on lips, before he opens his eyes. 

They widen.

Namjoon must have seen it because he quickly withdraws his hand, clutching it to his chest.

It is a sight for Jeongguk to see, breathed out in utter simplicity. But everyone sees the subtle way Seokjin crumbles, the way Namjoon breaks. He has never seen anything like that before.

“You…” Invisible ink has spilled across Namjoon’s knuckles, dripping onto the floor. “You _love_ me?”

Namjoon doesn’t seem to remember that the others are there anymore, his eyes are on Seokjin. They had always been on Seokjin. “Always,” he grins, his fingers are shaking though. But soulmates have no secrets, so Seokjin threads his fingers through Namjoon’s shaking hands, and kisses each and every finger.

Ink that no one can see trickles across pale skin.

All the other boys, including Jeongguk are silent, completely and utterly breathless. He has never seen love so pure, so vulnerable, so breakable.

Jeongguk wants it. In the tiny dorm room, with the smell of weed, and cheap ramen noodles, with faded cards and Seokjin’s lips on Namjoon’s skin, Jeongguk wants to be so raw, so broken in front of someone else, that they are the only person that can stitch him back together again.

That desire terrifies him.

-

“Love isn’t about fate you know,” his best friend, Taehyung, tells him years later, on the very first night of his marriage. He’s a little drunk, the perfect balance of alcohol and weakness.

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk asks. In school, they gushed over the perfection of soulmates, over that desire, over that need, over the beauty of fate. How attaining a soulmate was your one and only goal in life. Those classes honestly bored Jeongguk, it wasn’t until Namjoon and Seokjin that he realized it was much more deeper and scarier than he realized.

“Ah,” Taehyung smiles, lazy and clumsy. “It’s about choice. Fate can do whatever they want. But really-” He jabs a hard finger into Jeongguk’s chest. “It’s up to us, whether we love or not.”

“Taehyung." Jeongguk breathes. Just like a broken dam, words bleed out from him. And Jeongguk doesn't do anything to stop it. 

“I met my soulmate you know,” Taehyung  murmurs, eyes soft, lips curved. “She really was beautiful. But I had met _her_ then, and my soulmate already had a lover too. And good god, I love my wife more than you can ever imagine. We weren’t married then, but I had made my choice all along...” Taehyung pauses, eyelashes curling down to his cheeks when his eyes flutter shut. “You know what sucks?”

Jeongguk is hesitant in answering. But curiosity makes him reply. “What?”

“I kissed her, my soulmate that is. The way it happened, like fast growing leaves. Words I didn’t want to see, secrets I didn’t want to know. And now I know all of them and yet I don’t love her.” Taehyung exhales harshly. “You can’t not love a person when you know everything about them. Humans love intricacies.”

Jeongguk wants to ask more questions. More about love, and secrets and stolen kisses and messy words. He doesn’t though, and merely pats Taehyung on the back, taking the class of champagne from his shaking hand. “Let’s go in, they’re probably waiting for you.”

Taehyung gives Jeongguk a small, grateful smile. “Of course.”

That night, Jeongguk dreams about twisted leaves and stolen words.

-

Soulmates didn't mean love. It started with Taehyung but Jeongguk learns it as he grows older. The more he tries to find perfection, the more it hurts. Messy kisses that left no marks scattered across his skin, foreign and strange. Maybe he was a true love sort of guy. Ironic how he ended up in pointless fucks and nameless lips every time.

Soulmates were but just another fact of this nonsensical universe, but after all, it was all up to the simple human heart. Secrets weren't ever meant to be told, but the universe never does listen.

No one falls in love because they have to, but everyone falls in love because they choose to.

And in between the taste of someone's else lips against his collarbone, Jeongguk realizes that maybe soulmates weren't so great after all. Maybe he could hold onto all the kisses he had stole, all the hearts he broke and the parts of him that broke along with it, stitch them up so no one else can see, especially not a lover.

Everyone says the universe has blessed us.

But as Jeongguk leans down to pick his clothes, slipping out of the door without a second glance, it's but another secret, another piece to his beautifully constructed mask: he knows that the universe is not kind. We thrive in secrecy.

-

Jeongguk falls in love the first time when he is 24. It's a girl at his work. She isn't stunning, but she has presence. They fall in love between late Skype calls and long winding texts talking about everything and nothing. they fall in love between bleary morning coffee and smiles across the office. They fall in love because Jeongguk think she's more than beautiful and she thinks that he’s kind.

No one needs kisses to know that vulnerability lives in the night. She’s sleepy, hair falling over he shoulder as she leans in, eyelids fluttering.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” she smiles, and well, that translates to I love you, and Jeongguk's heart stutters softly, hesitantly in his chest.

He kisses her the next day.

She cries.

“I choose you, please. I love you.” Jeongguk begs, grasping onto her hands, but the way her face falls, Jeongguk knows he's already lost her.

“You're not mine to love, and I'm not yours to love.”  She’s crying , but it's not loud. It's soft, it's gentle, it's beautiful. Jeongguk leans in to kiss her, and she lets him.

She holds Jeongguk’s cheek and he leans into her touch. “One day someone will help you, but it's just not me. I can't fix you like you want me too. You know that.”

“I don't. “ Jeongguk’s hands tremble. “I can tell you everything, I can-”

She smiles, her face has closed over and Jeongguk can feel the serrated edges of his heart digging into his chest. “I’m sorry Jeongguk.”

-

She finds her soulmate 3 months later. And all Jeongguk can wonder is, if his name mattered enough to be spelled out against her skin; the only evidence of what was.

“We all deserve to be saved Jeongguk.” It’s the crackle against Jeongguk’s ear, the trembling of his hands.

“I miss you,” Is all he says. Alone.

“Good bye.”

The night is dark, and the dial tone sounds, over and over and over again.

 -

Jeongguk can be more than self destructive, alcohol only compliments that, intertwines through his fingers, his veins, and burns it all away, until he can’t quite feel it at all. Quite. Alcohol can’t change anything though, not really. So maybe Jeongguk was meaning to walk here all along. Hide behind what makes him feel the safest, yet reveals all his vulnerabilities at once.

No one can hide during sex.

But this was close enough. With music so vicious, so blinding, pounding and reverberating through thin, paint peeled walls. Eyes-beautiful, lost eyes-hidden behind long lashes and darkening swipes of eyeliner. There’s the smell of smoke, mixed with expensive cologne and something else, husky and dirty.

“You’re new aren’t you?” She smiles, all red lips and a flutter of eyelids. It doesn’t ever reach her eyes.

Jeongguk nods and opens his mouth to reply, but she’s already stopped listening, hands sliding, silky smooth over crinkled bills.

 _Maybe,_ Jeongguk thinks to himself as he walks down one of those winding halls, ushered into a silky bedroom, A boy like him doesn’t deserve a soulmate after all. _And this?_ The door opens, and there’s a beautiful boy, blurred by the haze of alcohol. _Was the next best thing._

So many people try to capture desire, when physicality was right there.  And if Jeongguk can’t get, he may as well, just take what’s already there. Right?

 _“We all deserve to be saved,”_ Her voice rings in his ears, feather light and dreamy.

 _Not me._ Jeongguk thinks, as the beautiful boy begins to discard his clothes, falling over pale, milky shoulders, hair a brilliant red, like lips, like love, like lust. Jeongguk’s eyes blur, and there’s a fluttering in his chest, an impatience in his stomach.

There’s a hesitance to his movements that’s unexpected. Like every touch, every purse of the lips was a choreographed movement, performed with grace, yet betraying his unease. Jeongguk can only watch, as he moves closer, he opens his hands, and he feels the boy tense at his touch. A break in his dance, in his movements. It scares Jeongguk.

Here he was, taking. Taking because he was hurting. Jeongguk pauses, and withdraws his hand.

“What’s… what’s your name?” Jeongguk asks. The boy’s eyes widen, mouth opening in surprise. He flinches when Jeongguk moves to touch him. His dance has been broken. But as quick as it happens, the mask settles again, and the boy grins, sly and sultry.

“My last name is Park,” He leans in, tongue flicking out to run over his upper lip, and Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat, eyelashes fluttering. “If I like you, I’ll tell you my first name.”

“I’m  Jeongguk,” Jeongguk blurts. The boy frowns, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Hello, Jeongguk.” The boy murmurs, and Jeongguk likes the sound of his name in his throat, it’s soft, a little rough at the edges. He smiles, and then leans in and Park’s fingers come to hold his chin. The boy smells like expensive cologne and something artificial. Unclean?

He expects tangled fingers, and messy moans, and a nice, vicious fuck.

Not this.

His lips taste like hummingbird wings, fiery and wild. Like a stormy spring. Warmth spreads across his skin, pricking the edges of his fingers, and Jeongguk moans, fingers tangling in his hair, dragging his neck back. Park arches into him, like it was real, like it was everything he needed and wanted.

 _God,_ Jeongguk thinks, eyes fluttering open. _Could the boy act._

And that’s when he sees it.

Curling from the edges of his lips, red, like spilled wine across pale shoulders, was one scrawled word, a gentle mimicry of Jeongguk’s handwriting: _Jimin._

“Jimin,” Jeongguk’s voice shakes.

Park Jimin looks at him. His hands are curled across the bed. His hair a mess. His mouth raw and red. He looks broken.

Jeongguk had expected a vicious hurricane of emotions, of love, of passion, of that mysterious feeling people wrote songs, and books and poems about. What surprises him, is that all of that is dulled into simplicity. It isn’t vibrant, it isn’t blinding, it is merely there. Two boys, with the universe written across their skin, confused and fearful.

Jeongguk reaches out first, but Jimin flinches away, hands curled to his chest.

“Don’t-” Jimin chokes.

Jeongguk hesitates, but continues, softly pressing his fingertips into the edge of Jimin’s shoulder. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t relax ethier.

“Please don’t,” Jimin says, softly this time.

“Why?” Jeongguk asks, and Jimin’s eyes flutter shut.

“You don’t want to be with someone like me,” Jimin murmurs. “I can’t save you.”

Jeongguk flinches. “What are you talking about?”

Jimin turns to look at him, and he smiles, it is so small and beautiful. He reaches out and touches the curve of Jeongguk’s lips, trailing finger tips and light touches. “Do you know what it says here?”

Jeongguk’s heart stutters in his throat. “W..What does it say?”

“I don’t deserve to be saved.” Jimin replies, the words small and dark against his lips. Jeongguk’s heart stalls at his throat, a ferocious moment of weakness. Jimin exhales shakily.  “Jeongguk, look at me.”

Jeongguk looks at Jimin, and he really was beautiful.  
  
“Not like that,” Jimin bites. “Look at me, _really_. I’m a fucking prostitute, dirty and fucked out and do you really want to love something like me? Jeongguk, LOOK AT ME!” His eyes are shining now, bright and angry and broken. “Please.”

“I see you,” Jeongguk replies simply.

“Go,” Jimin says, and he flinches away when Jeongguk reaches out to wipes his cheek, where the tears have stained. Jeongguk’s fingers falter, catching nothing but air. “Before any more damage can be done.”

Love was about choice. That’s what Jeongguk always told himself. It was then, in between dirty bed sheets, and bruised skin, and unspoken words, spilled like innocent blood, Jeongguk realizes that love was never about choice. The universe isn’t kind like that. It was fact, written long before they were ever born. Jeongguk loves Jimin, and Jimin loves Jeongguk. Love wasn’t about choice, but this was.

“No,” Jeongguk says, and he pulls Jimin in. “Kiss me.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, and Jeongguk might be mistaken, but there might be a flash of something like hope. “Are you sure?”

"Yes," Jeongguk says as he feels the brush of JImin’s lips against his collarbone.

“What does it say?” Jeongguk asks.

Jimin laughs. “I’ll tell you one day.” He tilts his head. “Do you want to kiss me?”

“Hell yes,” Jeongguk murmurs, and Jimin’s laughter rings when Jeongguk holds his face and leans in to press a messy kiss against his cheek.

Ink spills like wine. Red, beautiful and breathless. 


	2. part two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was something both Jimin and Jeongguk had to learn.

Jeongguk laughs, and holds up their interlaced fingers, pointing up at the mocking ceiling, dangling with loose, faded glowing stars against peeling paint.

“Let’s run away,” Jeongguk says maybe it was the euphoria talking, maybe it was the taste of Jimin against his tongue. “So we can see real stars.”

Something flickers in Jimin’s expression; unreadable.  Jeongguk already knows what it is though. This one was inked against his cheek: _I’m scared._ This one scribbled against his stomach: _I don’t want to hurt you._ This one against his wrist: _I’m not good enough._

“We can see stars from outside the window,” Jimin smiles, a slight tug of his mouth, and it makes Jeongguk leans in to kiss him. Ink blooms across his skin, and Jeongguk’s eyes flutter closed as his lips brush the newly formed words. Jimin trembles under him. 

The glow in the dark stars are, faded, messy, old, unmatched to the rest of the shitty hotel decor. “Barely any stars here, too much pollution in the city,” Jeongguk mumbles against Jimin's neck, and they fall into silence, short, unfinished silence.

Jeongguk sits up when Jimin moves, watching as he leans over to scrabble at his bag. “What are you doing?”

Jimin fishes a sharpie marker from his bag, and he smiles, wide and breathless; JImin rarely smiles like that, and who needs the sun and stars when you have something that bright? “I can’t show you the stars, but-” Jeongguk yelps, as Jimin moves to straddle him, breathing out a giggle, when Jimin draws something against the curve of his shoulder. “We can always make our own stars.”

There, inky black, capturing words that Jeongguk cannot see, is a silly, little star drawn on the slight arch of his shoulder.

“Well?” Jimin’s smile is small and a little hesitant.

“Well,” Jeongguk starts, poking Jimin in the stomach. “You better make me a fucking constellation.” 

Jimin only laughs, and Jeongguk tries not to giggle when the sharpie touches his skin, and that night Jimin draws star after star after star. He doesn’t draw constellations, no, the stars are scattered, one against his shoulder, three against his stomach; a star against his cheek, one on his forehead, against his arm, his wrist.

“All the places I have kissed.” Jimin says, when Jeongguk asks why.

Jeongguk points at a star. “What does this star say?” 

Jimin eye’s shine bright in the night. “I found you.” He replies.

 

-

 

The light stops shining, when they make it back. Jeongguk hands tighten against Jimin’s, unrelenting.

“I wasn’t joking about running away, you know.” Jeongguk murmurs. There’s always an overarching sense of familiarity when he comes here, of the first night, of smoke and sex, and lipstick and peeling walls and pounding music. Maybe because Jimin and Jeongguk’s soul made one whole, and this, was Jimin’s home.

“I know,” Jimin says, simply. “I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Jeongguk huffs, but Jimin teases out a smile when he leans in to peck a kiss. “My favourite client.”

Jeongguk frowns darkly, but it only makes Jimin laugh. “See you, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk watches his retreating back, stopped low, disappearing into the dark, away from him, away from them. It's anger, frustration and confusion curling against his stomach, harsh against his chest. He realeases all of this with a sigh, breath viciously white against the night.

Because that's the thing, they can steal moments away from the world, in shitty hotels and unfamiliar beds. Moments in their own finite universe, where the world doesn't laugh bitter, where they are free; to love, to be. This is why the universe is not kind. It does not give time. It does not give any form of salvation. And love is not a gift. It never was. 

This is why there's still a gentle clawing against his chest, when Jeongguk lies down on his own bed alone. It's even worse than before, because now Jeongguk had found him, a beating heart that completely aligns to his. Yet here he is, with only the silence of the night as company.

It fucking sucks.

 

-

 

Jimin is drawn away today, eyes hooded over, knees pressed to his chest. Jeongguk is content to just be, when it comes to Jimin.

The words scattered across his skin, blur together.

“Jimin?” Jimin twitches in his arms and turns to look at him, eyelashes sloping down to his cheeks.

  
“Yes?”

“Tell me about yourself,”

Jimin’s features change into one of confusion. “What do you mean? You know everything that there is to know about me.”

Jeongguk smiles, and brushes Jimin’s hair from his face. “Maybe. I know your insecurities, i know what you try to hide. But it doesn’t tell me your favourite foods, or TV shows, it doesn’t tell me your favourite animal or anything. You aren’t your vulnerabilities Jimin.”

“Ice cream,” Jimin says, the words muffled slightly by his fingers. “I like green tea ice cream.”

“Yeah?” Jeongguk grins, pressing a kiss stop Jimin’s head.

“I used to eat it all the time as a kid,” His head is bent down, neck exposed. And although his skin isn’t unblemished and pale, marked a light pink with twisted words, it was still breathless and beautiful. A canvas that only Jeongguk gets to paint.

The clock flashes red, in the dying light of day.

“Do you…” Jeongguk hesitates. “Do you, want to go get ice cream?

Jimin turns to stare at him, and for the first time he’s open enough that Jeongguk doesn’t need to kiss him to understand what he’s really trying to say. “Sure,” The word is soft enough that it falls with the sunset.

-

There’s a dot of ice cream across Jimin lip’s, and a blush of red from the cold. It’s a simple image, and Jeongguk doesn’t know if he had come to love it or not. Because Jimin still flinches when his fingers wipe at the corner of his lip.

“Hey-”

“I haven’t had ice cream for years actually,” Jimin says, a tangled mess of words, that mixes with the sweetness of the ice cream against his lips. “Thank you for this.”

“I-” Jeongguk sighs; his ice cream had melted into a puddle of creamy green. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry.”

Jimin frowns, and nudges Jeongguk. “ It’s ice cream, you put it in your mouth and let it melt?” He says this with such genuine concern that it makes Jeongguk laugh.

Jeongguk grins at Jimin. “We’re both so clueless aren’t we?”

“About what?” Jimin's features have scrunched into a frown. 

“This,” Jeongguk says lightly, and he threads their fingers. “I don’t know how to love properly, and you..” He skitters fingers across Jimin’s collarbone, where the words are written. “- think you don’t deserve to love or be loved.”

Jimin pushes Jeongguk’s fingers away. “And yet we’re here. What’s your point Jeongguk? Do you want to leave, because you can, I won’t blame you.”  


“No!” Jeongguk says. “I-”

“You know I’m more broken than you think, and I guess you are too.” His eyes fall on the edges of Jeongguk’s lips. Words he can’t see.

“I know.” Jeongguk says stubbornly, hands tightening against Jimin’s. “And I made a choice. I’m just not sure if you have.”

Jeongguk’s right. It written right there on the arch of Jimin’s shoulder. There’s no assurance, only fear, and confusion and confliction. Jeongguk might not know how to love, but at least he’s trying. But Jimin draws away, like Jeongguk was vicious flames, and his touch burns.

“I’m scared,” Jimin mumbles, “I’m so scared.”

“Please,” Jeongguk says, gripping Jimin close. There’s a certain heaviness against his chest, weighing him down, as he realizes Jimin wasn’t looking at him, eyes glazed over, expression guarded. “I found you. Why won’t you choose me?”

Jimin smiles at him, small and unsure. “You want me to save you, and I can’t do that. I’m not the person you’re looking for Jeongguk. And maybe I am, but I’m not who you _want_ me to be. ”

Love was never about salvation. Not really. It wasn’t about perfection either, maybe Love was trial and error, maybe love was patience. Maybe love was unconditional. Love was but a compliment to time.

This was something both Jimin and Jeongguk had to learn. 

“Hey, look at me.” Jeongguk murmurs, cradling Jimin’s cheek. “Really look at me.”

Jimin’s eyes darken, almost unreadable against the night. “Why?” he asks, it’s hesitant, almost like he doesn’t really want to hear Jeongguk’s answer.

And the thing is, Jimin was right. Jeongguk didn't have an answer. He chose to love Jimin, because he loved him. Maybe it was the stupid nonsensical hands of fate, that tangled strings and paths, or maybe it was because Jimin was so, so beautiful, vulnerabilities and all.

Jimin already knew that though. So he turns away. The ice cream has completed melted at this point. The colourful spoon, swimming in a pool of green.

“I’m not asking you to save me-”

“You are.” Jimin cuts in. “Don’t you realize no one can save you but yourself Jeongguk? You can’t keep finding and finding someone to love you perfectly. Because we will always disappoint you.”

Jeongguk is speechless for a few seconds. No one has told him that before.

“W..What about you? Don’t you want to be saved?” Jeongguk asks, when he can’t conjure a proper reply.

Jimin eyes are lost again, swaying against the park bench. “I don’t-

“-deserve to be saved. I know.”  Jeongguk sighs.

“We’re both a little broken aren’t we?” Jimin laughs.

Jeongguk leans back to stare at the stars, mocking and shining against the sielnce of the sky. “Everyone is a little.” He grins, and Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Besides, I’m willing to wait.”

Jimin huffs a laugh, breath white like heavy fog. “I’m just going to disappoint you, you know. I need more fixing than you.”

“So?” Jeongguk smiles. “I’ll wait.”

Jimin shakes his head. ‘You’re an idiot. We’re both clueless idiots.”

“Well, clueless idiot.” Jeongguk leans in. “Kiss me then.”

Jimin’s skin burns when they kiss; words etch themselves across the edges of his cheeks. Jimin tastes like green tea ice cream, like the sticky sweetness of honey and the warmth of wine. It isn’t perfect. Jimin still trembles when Jeongguk pulls back, his eyes are closed, like he doesn’t want to read the words written against Jeongguk's skin. But Jeongguk only leans in to kiss him again and again. So perfectly imperfect, that it makes him laugh, one that bubbles from his throat, breathed against Jimin's lips.

And when Jeongguk's eyes flutter open, warmth spills across his chest.

Across Jimin’s cheek, scribbled on top of _I’m scared_ , are new words: _I could learn to love someone like you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk where i'm going with this???  
> oh well, still fun to write though  
> maybe ive been reading too much manga lately bc this feels like a scene right out of some romance anime or smth idk

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure if i want to continue this  
> but we'll see!!!  
> ALSO I LOVE ANGSTY SOUL MATE AUS


End file.
